Healing (Season 4, Episode 9)
by bionic4ever
Summary: (Season 4, Episode 9) The aftermath of Cobra's reign of terror. The victims' physical wounds are healing...but what will it take to heal their souls? And a discovery is made in the abandoned amusement park that just might threaten them all! Dedicated to the members of The Bionic Project! See my profile for a link and stop by for a visit; we'd love to see you!
1. Chapter 1

**HEALING**- Season 4, Episode 9

Chapter 1

Steve looked at Jaime (nestled next to him) with a smile in his eyes. They'd been home from the hospital for just over six hours and (except for a quick break for meds and a bite to eat) had spent the entire time exactly like this...or even closer. ''You cold?'' he asked.

''Definitely not.''

''I'd have to agree with you there,'' he chuckled.

The phone rang and they both ignored it, until Jaime gasped. ''Mark!'' (It had stopped ringing.)

''You forgot my name...already?'' Steve teased. ''And after what we just did?'' It started ringing again, more intrusively (if that was possible) and Steve picked it up. ''Hi Mark,'' he greeted - not waiting to find out who it was because the OSI's resident PTSD expert had promised to call them...and in the afterglow, they'd simply forgotten. ''Jaime?'' he said (winking at her). ''I...uh...think she might be asleep already. Hang on; I'll go check.'' (Jaime suppressed a giggle as Steve covered the mouthpiece, waited what he thought was a convincing amount of time, then got back on the line.) ''Yeah; she's out like a light.''

Jaime couldn't resist listening in. ''Well, good,'' Mark told Steve. ''And how are _you _holding up?''

''Took my meds on schedule; Jaime made sure of it.''

''Great work, Jaime,'' Mark praised softly.

''Thank you,'' she said from right beside Steve...giving herself away.

She needn't have worried; Mark _knew_ (or at least strongly suspected) and it made him smile. He was relieved that if his patients (and _friends_) should need help in the middle of the night, with nightmares or just to have someone to talk to, they were within arm's reach (or less) of each other. ''I'll see you in the morning for coffee,'' he reminded them both. ''I'll bring the donuts.''

* * *

Steve spent a good portion of the night just watching Jaime sleep. _She is SO beautiful_ he marveled to himself..and she looks so..._fragile_. Steve's mind dragged him back to the early morning he'd been forced to chain her to the railing of a rotted, crumbling roller coaster...and then leave her there, unsure if either of them would still be alive when the sun came up. Mark Conrad had hit it on the head when he'd said that by virtue of their bionics, Steve and Jaime had a tendency to feel invincible...making _helplessness _an especially foreign and disorienting feeling. And they had both been completely helpless that morning! Even with the squibs and smoke bombs going off all around them he could still see Jaime's face; the devastation and hopelessness in her eyes had been more than Steve thought he could bear. Even now, the memory jolted him like a punch to his heart.

Steve covered Jaime with a quilt in an almost subconscious gesture to keep her safe and warm...and then got out of bed. Sleep was out of the question. Instead, he made a pot of coffee and sat out on the back porch swing, staring up at the stars. He hadn't seen stars that night, through the smoke and confusion. He tried to focus on the sky now, especially on the moon and the way it had looked when he'd first set foot on it. Anything to try and rid himself of the horrific images playing in a rapid-fire slide show in his head. _Helpless _was such an awful feeling! Jaime had been forced to fight Kingsley at the top of the coaster's turnaround - 90 feet up, for their very lives - and there had been nothing he could do to help her! He couldn't begin to imagine how awful the climb up that hill had been for Jaime, having to pull her depleted body up such a steep incline, fighting off that monster with every inch she gained.

Steve had wished he wasn't 'blessed' with his eye's ability to focus in as the pair reached the top and began their battle for survival. His gun had been out and ready but he'd been unable to get off a clear shot until the very end because the pair up there on the hill had been jockeying for solid footing, circling each other in a grim death match. When he'd finally been able to fire - to hit his target - it was already over. According to the Coroner's report, Kingsley might have died (eventually) from the gunshot wound...but it had been the fall - headfirst, over the railing - that had killed him. Technically he had died at Jaime's hand but it was a true case of _kill or be killed_ in the middle of a war zone that Kingsley himself had designed and created. Steve hoped that when Jaime learned of the report's contents she would see it that way too. They were waiting for her to ask; then they'd tell her the truth. She already had too much on her plate for _anyone _to attempt to process and deal with!

_The moon...think of the moon._Its beauty...peacefulness...its complete and utter desolation...

There really was no escaping the slide show in his head. Steve went back inside and checked on Jaime. She was still sleeping peacefully, a smile on her face.

* * *

For the first time in too long, a meeting was finally held in the conference room at OSI-Los Angeles, instead of in Rudy's office at National Medical. ''I just got off the phone with Michael Marchetti,'' Russ began. ''The last of Kingsley's victims who were given Michael's 'concussive compound' were released from National an hour ago. Prognosis excellent for all of them. Rudy's being kept a few more days though, just to make sure his heart rhythms stay normal.''

''Maybe I'll have to consider having Marchetti give his compound to my people as well,'' Jack Hansen responded. Whether he'd been unsure of the compound's ethics (as he'd claimed) or was simply too stubborn to go along with the OSI's solution was unclear...but he'd kept half a dozen of his 'penguin suits' confined in a locked ward for more than a week now, waiting to see if the effects of Cobra's mind control device would simply 'wear off'.

''Maybe you should've done that a week ago,'' Oscar said pointedly.

''In any case,'' Hansen continued, ''the rest of my teams made a final sweep of the amusement park yesterday. They located two devices, one the size of a portable television, equipped with barrel and trigger mechanisms, and the other about the size of a datacom. It's unclear exactly what they were supposed to be for, but in the interest of inter-agency unity, Oscar, we'll turn them over to your labs for examination.''

Oscar raised an eyebrow in surprise, then nodded his thanks. ''I'm sure Rudy would love to take a crack at those, once he's feeling up to it.'' It would give his dear friend something to focus on while his body and mind grew strong again. ''Mark Conrad is on his way to check in with Steve and Jaime,'' Oscar concluded. ''So far. It sounds like they're dealing about as well as can be expected: a little stronger every day. So it seems like things are finally looking up - for everyone.''


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Mark kept his word and brought donuts. His first thought was that Jaime looked radiant - happy to be home and (so far) on an even keel. Steve, on the other hand, looked like he'd barely slept. Mark knew that because their bodies required less oxygen replenishment (and thus, less sleep), Steve must have been up all night for it to show that dramatically on his face and in his manner. Jaime saw it too; Mark could tell. But Steve apparently still seemed to think that he needed to be strong for Jaime's sake, having only rarely opened up in front of her when they'd had sessions in the hospital. It would do Jaime a world of good too, to hear what Steve might have to say, but Mark likened it in his mind to attempting to crack a walnut. Tough exterior with small, barely perceptible cracks...until it shattered into pieces. He vowed that his patient would _not _become that broken walnut.

A game of Monopoly produced no valuable new insights. Jaime kept up a happy, excited patter (seeming to try and draw Steve out) and Steve was mostly silent, occasionally managing a brief smile at his fiancee's exuberance. Jaime won, of course - but Mark was getting closer to beating her every time they played. Steve went bankrupt even earlier than usual (for him) and Mark noticed the haunted look in his eyes when he gazed at Jaime. It was time to crack the walnut.

''Almost winning made me a little hungry,'' Mark announced. ''Steve, why don't we give her some time to bask in the glory of victory while we pick up a pizza?'' Instead of driving directly to the pizza parlor, he drove the back roads toward National Medical, unknowingly parking in almost the same spot as Kingsley had parked his van when Oscar had been abducted. It was isolated, peaceful...and hopefully the right setting for his recalcitrant patient to allow more than the tiniest crack in his veneer.

''Jaime likes pepperoni and extra cheese,'' Steve told him (still stalling even when it was obvious what the doctor was trying to do). ''And garlic.''

''Tell me what happened last night,'' Mark said, straight to the point.

''Aw, Doc...I never pegged you as a voyeur...''

Mark shook his head. ''Nice try - but you _know_what I'm talking about.''

''I'm okay, Doc. Really. I'm more worried about Jaime...''

''See, _that's_ the problem - and that's why _I'm_ more worried about _you_. Jaime at least talks about what's troubling her, what's haunting her dreams or flashing through her mind when she's awake. You, on the other hand -''

''She's been through hell, and -''

''And so have _you_,'' Mark insisted. ''I understand that you're trying to give her a shoulder to lean on, to be someone she can draw strength from, but you're denying your own pain...and Jaime knows it. When you present yourself as always so stoic and strong, you _could _be coming off as not caring about what happened...and I know that's not the truth. If you keep going down the road you're on now, I can virtually guarantee it'll tear the two of you apart; that means Kingsley wins in the end.''

''I...never thought of it that way,'' Steve admitted. ''I sure don't want to lose her, after everything we've been through.''

''So tell me about last night,'' Mark probed. ''What kept you awake?''

''Jaime looked so peaceful when she fell asleep next to me. She was even smiling. But...she looked so fragile. And I...I guess I failed her, Doc. I couldn't do anything to help her when she needed me the most. I chained her to that rail...and _left _her there. I just...left her there...''

''Did you have any other choice?'' Mark asked very quietly.

''Jaime...she even _told_ me to do it! But how could I have...''

''How could you have done any differently? There were _gunshots_ practically hitting your feet. He could've decided to raise that gun and shoot you both - or killed Rudy.''

''I told Jaime I'd be back for her...but by the time I came back, it was too late to help her. Again,'' Steve noted sadly. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes; the walnut was starting to crack.

''But you found Rudy - and kept him talking until help arrived. And you still got off a shot at Kingsley, the first chance you got. Not to mention pulling yourself up that steep track with one arm to stay with Jaime until the chopper arrived. You helped everyone in every way you possibly could. Now how about helping yourself?''

''Okay, Doc. Alright. But first can we help ourselves to some pizza?''

At least it was a start.

* * *

''How do you feel this morning?'' Michael asked Rudy. (He'd already spoken to Rudy's cardiologist and learned that the heart monitor was to be removed - so now Michael was more concerned about his mentor's spirit.)

''I'd like to go with you when you visit Jaime and Steve today...if you think they'll be alright with that,'' Rudy announced.

''I think it would do wonders for all three of you,'' Michael told him with a smile.

It would be the first time he'd even attempted to function as a physician/scientist again since Kingsley had stolen control of his mind. His faculties were all there; his confidence...he'd have to wait and see. It was still hard for Rudy to accept that (under Kingsley's control) he'd tried to _kill_ both of his 'kids'. He, too, had been working with Mark Conrad but Rudy had always been one to approach things from a factual, scientific standpoint - and the fact was that his hands had been used as a potential instrument of death. His feelings - something intangible and not supported by facts or evidence - were harder for him to express or process. He'd been assured many times that Jaime and Steve still trusted and (yes) _loved _him...but could he trust himself? What if he wasn't truly free of whatever hold Kingsley had on him? Was there any sure (preferably tangible and scientific) way to tell?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jaime greeted him with a hug and Steve with a warm handshake (and a one-armed hug) and suddenly Rudy felt a lot better about life in general. ''How're you feeling?'' Jaime asked, passing around a basket of fresh chocolate chip muffins.

''No, I'm here to see how _you're _doing - you and Steve,'' Rudy told her. Michael had carried in a set of five metal bars, a standard test Rudy used to check bionic arm strength. Rudy nodded Jaime toward them (as he slathered margarine on a muffin). ''You know the drill,'' he instructed. ''Smallest to heaviest and see how many you can bend.''

Jaime bent the first one down to its base and then back up again. Rudy smiled approvingly. ''Piece-a-cake!'' she crowed. The second didn't bend quite as easily but she managed it. The third...gave her trouble. It barely budged. ''I guess...I'm done...'' she said, her voice trailing off in disappointment.

Steve gave Jaime a reassuring kiss on her cheek and then took his turn with the metal bars. He bent the first three as though they were made of rubber, did fairly well with the fourth and (even without his left arm to brace himself for better leverage) he was able to make some progress with the fifth.

''Great job,'' Rudy exulted. ''I think your right arm may even be compensating for the temporary loss of function in your left.'' He turned to Jaime. ''Don't be discouraged, Honey; it takes time.'' Jaime headed into the kitchen to replenish the muffin basket and the three men in the room exchanged a worried look, with Rudy shaking his head sadly at Michael and Steve. Jaime should have regained more of her strength by now...and they all knew it.

''My turn,'' Michael said to Steve. ''Have a seat and let's check see how you're doing. Still taking your antibiotics _and_ your pain meds?'' he asked.

''I make sure he does,'' Jaime announced, returning from the kitchen. ''But he's a good patient.''

''Alright, Steve, wriggle your fingers for me. Good. Make a fist. Now try and rotate your wrist...but go slowly.'' Michael was relieved that Steve's range of motion in the area not covered by the cast seemed even better than the day before. Then it was Jaime's turn. Her blood pressure was a bit too high and the rest of her vitals were low, but not enough to cause alarm in or of themselves. Combined with her lack of bionic strength, though, both doctors were concerned.

''We'll leave the bar set here with you,'' Michael informed them. ''Work with them when you feel up to it and other than that you're both on Rest, Rest and more Rest. _Doctors' Orders._''

''Is there...something wrong with me?'' Jaime asked in a very small (almost child-like) voice.

''It'll time to build your strength back up, especially since you've been through so much,'' Rudy answered gently. ''Be patient with yourself. We'll be back again tomorrow and maybe in a few days we'll have you both up at the track to test your legs. Slowly at first...just to see what you can do.''

The doctors both saw that Jaime was close to tears...but she nodded obediently. Only when Rudy and Michael were gone did Jaime bury her head on Steve's shoulder and begin to cry in earnest. ''I _hate_ this!'' she said with surprising vehemence. ''I hate trying so hard and getting nowhere! I hate feeling so weak! And I _hate _Kingsley for what he's done...to both of us! I'm backsliding, Steve! I...I don't understand...''

''And I hate that I can't do more to help you,'' Steve told her softly as they sank down onto the sofa. 'Helpless' was an awful feeling - completely foreign to him - and he seemed to be butting heads with it at every turn.

''I wouldn't _be _here if it wasn't for you...''

''How do you figure? Sweetheart...I left you alone on that platform...!''

''You didn't have a choice...neither one of us did...''

''If I would have stayed - just told him _no_- we could've fought together and -''

Jaime shook her head. ''And he'd probably have killed both of us before we'd even had a chance to see him coming! But...you _saved _me...you really did...''

''I don't understand,'' Steve admitted. (_Maybe she thinks I killed Kingsley when I fired that shot _he thought to himself.)

''When I was fighting him off...up there on the tracks...I threw him over the edge...'' Jaime's voice and her body began to tremble. ''I...I _killed_ him, Steve! Then...when it was over...I was sitting on those tracks. And...and I didn't really care if they were collapsing! I...it...was just too much. I thought I was gonna fall...and I didn't really care. Maybe I even _wanted_...to fall - and just be _done_ with it. I...I guess...I thought about that. And then I heard your voice...saying you were coming for me...that I should hold on...and I did! I grabbed that rail...and...held on...for you!''

Steve was stunned; he'd had no idea! (_This_ was why she'd never asked about the Coroner's report: she already _knew_.) He smoothed Jaime's hair back and brushed the tears from her cheeks. ''I don't know what I'd have done if I'd lost you,'' he whispered. She'd been a part of his life for so long that he simply couldn't conceive of the world without her in it. ''Of all the things Kingsley did to us, that would've been the one thing...that I don't think I could've recovered from.'' For the very first time since their ordeal with Cobra had started ( from months ago when the hospital had been taken over...to taking cover in the bunker...to nearly dying in an abandoned amusement park), Jaime and Steve leaned into each other...and cried together. Steve's tears were quiet - singular - while Jaime sobbed freely but they were finally taking the first step toward true healing as a united team. The soft, tender tears were cathartic and they held each other close as memories of pain, anger and _helplessness _poured out of them.

When it was over (and the 'storm' had passed...for now), they looked at each other and _smiled_. A corner had been turned and they both knew it. ''I'm gonna pass you up on those bar things of Rudy's,'' she announced. ''On the track too.''

''You already kick my butt in Monopoly on a daily basis,'' Steve replied. ''Can't a guy ever catch a break?''

''I might let you catch one break...right now...if you play your cards right. Great cardio-vascular workout too, or so I'm told...''

* * *

Russ's faced paled visibly at the news from his team. He'd sent a group back into Fun World to perform the OSI's final sweep - and what they'd discovered was beyond what anyone expected. ''Are you _sure_?'' he repeated. ''Of course, you're sure. Well, bring him in - bring him _here_, not to the NSB - and exercise extreme caution.'' He hung up the phone and headed down the hall, trying to figure out the best way to tell his boss the news.

He found Oscar on the phone, putting out one of the nation's small Intelligence 'fires' like he did on an almost daily basis - but when he saw the look on Russ's face, he cut the call short. ''Charlie, I'll call you back. What happened?'' he asked his young assistant.

''You're not going to believe this, Oscar,'' Russ began. ''My team is on the way back from Fun World with a man in custody...who claims he's Grant Kingsley.''


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Oscar stared through the one-way glass at the man who sat at their interrogation table in shackles. He'd only seen 'Grant Kingsley' briefly (when he'd been abducted, before he'd been blindfolded) but this man bore only a slight resemblance to the one in the green van. He was, however, a dead ringer for the original photo of Kingsley that had been distributed to the Intelligence community...the photo of Jaime's 'Drill Man'!

''My God!'' Oscar gasped. ''Did he say anything on the ride back here?''

''When they found him, he was by the roller coaster. Said he wanted to see where his brother died. Other than that, just his name and credentials. And they match up,'' Russ concluded. ''Our agents were careful not to ask him any questions during transport, since his answers wouldn't be valid in court. _If _there's a court case here at all.''

''If he's Grant Kingsley, who the hell did we autopsy?'' Oscar muttered. ''Well...the two people who saw him in the attic – before his appearance changed – would be the ones to ID him now...''

Russ nodded. ''And the one who got the closest look...''

''We _can't _ask Jaime,'' Oscar insisted. ''I'll call Steve - but I'll have to think of some other reason to get him down here because you know Jaime will be listening in.''

''Gotta love that ear,'' Russ agreed.

* * *

Half an hour later, Steve walked into OSI-Los Angeles with Jaime by his side - and she was _fuming_. ''Really, Oscar? An 'official leave of absence'? He obviously can't work in the shape he's in, but neither can I – and I never had to sign for any 'official leave of absence!''

''You were de-activated. That's different,'' Oscar hedged. ''It means that you are no longer an agent - although you may be in the future. That's up for discussion. In the _future_. Steve is going on what you might look at as the Injured Reserve List and -''

''And I know a line of _bull _when I hear it!'' Jaime insisted. Standing just slightly behind her, Steve gave Oscar a shrug and his bemused expression told his boss that he - Oscar - would have to field this one. ''If you wanted to talk to Steve alone, without me along, you could've just said so and I'd have -''

''And you'd have insisted on coming with me anyway,'' Steve completed for her. ''Right, Sweetheart?''

''So what's going on that you don't want me to know about?'' Jaime asked astutely.

Oscar really had no choice. He _could _send Jaime from the building...and potentially alienate someone who might yet become one of his best operatives again someday. Or he could spill it. He thought maybe the indirect approach would be best. ''Steve, we have a prisoner in the interrogation room that I'd like you to take a look at.''

''Anything I can do to help?'' Jaime offered (cooling down just a little bit).

''For now, wait here with Russ, please,'' Oscar told her.

''_Oscar!_''

Oscar decided it might be better if they supported each other through this, after all – especially since Jaime wasn't going to have it any other way. ''Alright; but you'd better sit down. Our agents did a final walk through at Fun World today. They arrested a man they found standing under The Cobra coaster. He...ah...he claims he's Grant Kingsley.''

''_**What**__?!_'' Steve exclaimed. ''That's impossible; there was an autopsy!''

''He matches the photo that Mark Conrad showed the two of you when you were in hiding, in the bunker,'' Oscar continued. ''At least, he appears to. We'd like to get a positive ID from someone who actually _saw _his face, before he changed his appearance.''

Jaime frowned thoughtfully. ''What if he _didn't _change his appearance at all? Could the man in the attic and the one at the park have been two separate people?''

''Babe, why don't you wait here with Russ, let Steve take a look - and we'll go from there,'' Oscar suggested.

''But I had a closer look at his face! Oscar, let me do this; I _want _to do this! Besides...it'd just be looking through glass...right? I mean, not actually in the room with him...?''

''That's right,'' Oscar confirmed. He looked to Steve, who could only answer with a 'shrug' of his eyebrows. Jaime's voice was frightened...but firm. Her jaw was set in the look that Steve knew too well; she _would _have her way, so arguing with her was futile. ''Alright, let's go then,'' Oscar conceded. ''You can both take a look and then we'll talk more.''

Jaime clung to Steve's arm as they rounded the last corner - and when she got her first look through the one-way glass, she shuddered and buried her face in his shoulder but then turned again for a longer, positive look. ''That's him...that's the Drill Man,'' she told Oscar. This was the face she had seen leering down at her when she'd broken her bonds and removed her hood...the man who had been tormenting her with a power drill.

''That's the man from the attic,'' Steve agreed.

''Let's go back to my office,'' Oscar suggested.

''I...I don't understand,'' Jaime began tremulously once they were all seated again. ''If he was in the attic...who was in the park? Who did I..._kill_?''

Oscar exchanged a glance with Steve. (So she _did_ know, after all.) ''The man in that room _says _his name is Grant Kingsley. He told our agents that he wanted to see where his brother died,'' Oscar explained.

''Wait a minute,'' Steve puzzled. ''You said he was under The Cobra. How did he know that was where his so-called brother died?''

''We haven't questioned him yet.''

''Give me five minutes alone in that room with him!''

''Steve!'' Jaime protested.

''Sweetheart, he's in shackles. I'm trained for this...and I don't need two arms for what I have in store for him. Oscar - _five minutes!_''


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Steve _slammed_ the door of the interrogation room but the suspect in shackles didn't flinch. ''Let's start with an easy one,'' Steve said, standing behind the prisoner's chair. ''_**Who are you**__?!'_'

''My name is Grant Kingsley,'' the subject said quietly, without turning around. He listed his background and education for Steve (as he had for the agents who'd found him) in a calm clear voice.

''And you told our agents that you 'wanted to see where your brother died'.''

''That's correct.''

''What's your brother's name?''

''His name _was _Graham Kingsley.''

''Mind telling me how you knew the exact spot your _brother _died?'' Steve probed.

''We're identical twins. I knew where he'd been hiding, yes. And I knew - or sensed - that he was no longer in this world. So I went to the amusement park and I walked around until I 'felt' the right spot.''

''And I'm an alien from Mars who vacations on the outer ring of Saturn!'' Steve kicked one of the empty chairs and sent it skidding into the wall with a hearty _crash_. ''You don't really expect me to buy into that _nonsense_, do you? You were there all along, helping him!''

''Not true.''

''Then _he_ was helping _you_!'' Steve thundered. ''Or did you use your _device _on him too?''

''My device?''

''_I'm_ asking questions - _you_ are giving answers!''

The suspect shrugged. ''Then you need clearer questions.''

Steve slammed his fist onto the table hard enough that it nearly broke in two, then shoved it out of the way and yanked on the suspect's belly chain. ''Do you think I'm _playing_ here? Are you having _fun_? Party's over, wise guy! I'm not a helpless woman you can torture with power tools!'' Steve yanked the chain again, forcing the man to his feet. ''I'm not the man you had your cronies work over until he was unconscious!'' He began backing 'Kingsley' toward the far corner of the tiny room. ''I'm not even the person whose broken arm you kicked,'' Steve went on through clenched teeth. Once the subject was firmly in the corner, back against the wall, Steve grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him off his feet, dangling him several inches in the air like a rag doll. ''I'm the person standing between you and Hell - and I'll happily write your ticket there!''

''This is police brutality,'' 'Kingsley' protested.

''It would be...if I was the police.'' Steve shook him again for good measure - and just because he _could_. ''_This_ is the OSI - and _you're_ in a lot of trouble!'' Still dangling the man by his collar, Steve walked over and deposited him none-too-gently in the nearest chair. ''Who planned this?'' Steve demanded. ''You...or your 'identical twin' who looked nothing like you but just _happened _to have the same name?''

''The last time I saw Graham, he had this face. I don't know what to tell you about that.''

''You claim to have studied in Austria with Rudy Wells?''

''I _did_ study in Austria with Rudy.''

''Then mind control _was _your idea?'' Steve gave him no time to consider each question before moving on to the next, hoping to disorient him - and trip him up in his own lies.

''Mind control?''

''You built the device and used it on your own brother? If he really _was _your brother!''

''Of course he was! Do you really think I went sight-seeing in a rotted, broken-down amusement park for the fun of it? Or for a stranger?''

''For a stranger you were controlling - yes! You were there to see someone else carry out your dirty work for you. Weren't you?'' Steve seethed. The suspect didn't answer. ''Or the two of you did this together and -''

''No.''

''And you got some sort of bizarre thrill out of torturing an innocent woman, nearly to her death! Is that it?''

''Graham...did that?''

''_You _did that - and we both know it! Jaime knows it too. So give up the charade!'' Steve's voice filled the room more with each sentence he threw at his immovable subject.

''I don't know who you are. And this 'Jamie' person...I don't know who he is either.''

Steve grabbed the belly chain again and yanked, pulling the suspect off the chair and sending him to the floor. ''You've already seen and felt what I can do to you. Do you really want another demonstration? Or are we going to have a quiet, pleasant chat now?''

''Are you quite done with the strong-arm tactics, then?''

''Wrong answer!'' Steve yelled. Watching through the other side of the one-way glass (at her own insistence), Jaime jumped at the anger in his voice and the way he picked 'Kingsley' up by the chain and backed him into the corner again all in one single fluid (and extremely threatening) motion.

''Alright...I'll tell you. Just...put me down.''

''First you say something intelligent, like - oh, I don't know...the _truth_- and then I'll put you down.''

''I..._am_ Grant Kingsley. Graham _was_ my identical twin. But you're right about one thing. I was there...in the amusement park...the day he died. Because I went there _to kill him_.''


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Oscar opened the door, as Steve's time was up. He closed it again, locking Kingsley inside. ''He's all yours, Oscar,'' Steve said with a triumphant smile.

''Colonel Austin, we'll be needing to have a talk about your methods,'' Oscar told him. ''_That _didn't exactly come from the manual.''

Steve shrugged. ''I took the correspondence course.''

''Steve!''

''Well, it worked, didn't it? He'll talk to you now. Not bad for someone on 'Injured Reserves', huh? And you're welcome.'' Steve wrapped his arm around Jaime, the limb as tender with her as it had been rough with Kingsley.

''Are you gonna be in a _lot _of trouble?'' Jaime wondered on the way home.

''For that? No. One thing about Oscar: if you're 'in trouble' with him, you _know_ it - in no uncertain terms and right away. What he said to me - about needing to have a talk - that _was_ the talk. Sort of a verbal rap on the knuckles, I guess you could say. Now if you hear him say something like _In my office NOW_...''

''Move outta the country and change my name?'' Jaime giggled.

''Sounds about right.''

''Steve...? Did you believe what Kingsley said? Is it possible? I mean...shouldn't the OSI know if he had a twin? I'd imagine they looked up his background some time in the last two months.''

''Yeah. You'd think we'd already know something like that,'' Steve acknowledged. ''But what other explanation could there be? I guess we just have to wait and see what he tells Oscar.''

* * *

What Kingsley was telling Oscar was a stunning story. Mark Conrad had been summoned to sit in on questioning, since he was an expert at getting people to talk about things they'd rather keep buried...but he wasn't really needed. Grant Kingsley (if that was who he was) was _ready _to talk. Russ stood on the other side of the one-way glass, to act as a back-up witness and Oscar turned on the tape recorder, up-ended the table to its rightful position and sat down.

''Tell us about your brother,'' he began, ''and why you were going to kill him.''

''I knew something was wrong with Graham even before our parents did. One of my earliest memories is of the two of us making collages together and he pulled the wings off a butterfly to use as the center of his picture, and things only got worse after that. By the end of high school, he was living in the basement because he said he liked it there.'' He paused there, as if deciding how much to share with two men he didn't know, who had him in shackles.

''What happened in the basement?'' Mark probed.

''Graham had skipped school that day and I went down to give him his assignments. He had a girl down there...a girl he'd just _killed_. I don't know who she was or what he did with her...body. I didn't want to know. I'm not sure he even realized I'd come down the stairs.''

''Did you tell anyone?'' Oscar asked. ''Your parents? The _police_?''

''Of course not! We're - or I suppose we _were_- twins. I couldn't help him but I didn't turn him in either. But that was when I decided - for certain - to get my education abroad...to distance myself from him as much as was possible.''

''So you _were_ the one who studied with Rudy Wells, then?''

''In Austria, yes. We were three or four years apart but we shared the same lab space. Brilliant scientist.''

''The mind control device _was _your invention?'' Oscar deduced.

''_Mind control?_Of course not!''

''_Why are you __**still**__ lying?_'' Oscar snapped.

''I'm not lying...oh.'' (Oscar and Mark could almost see the light bulb going on in his head.) ''_Oh no_...so that's what he was up to.''

''I think you'd better tell us the rest now,'' Oscar insisted.

* * *

When they got home, Jaime was quiet and a little bit distant. Steve offered to 'slap together some sandwiches' while she relaxed and put her feet up. ''Talk to me?'' he asked over turkey and Swiss.

''Is it always like that...when you question someone?''

''Sweetheart, I really wish you hadn't seen that. And no, it isn't. It was just very important to me - to _us_ - to 'break' this guy...to get him talking. I guess I took a page from Jack Hansen's book, but it worked. Hopefully Oscar is able to get some answers from him now. At least I didn't throw a punch; I _wanted_ to. I _am_ sorry for bringing your name into it. I wanted to get a reaction from him. You heard what he said - he thought _Jaime _was a man.''

''A lot of people do.''

''Yeah, well he could also be a brilliant actor.''

* * *

When Kingsley was done talking, the tiny room fell silent for a few moments as everything sank in...for everyone. He'd told them that Graham had studied in the States, mostly New York. He remembered mentioning mind control in an off-handed way to Rudy...and he'd also kicked it around with his brother (before he'd found out just how warped his twin really was). It had never been more than a science fiction 'what-if' for Grant but now he estimated that his brother - studying experimental physics - had taken the idea and run with it. He claimed to never have even visited the Soviet Union but thought that Graham might have been there for a few years, after college. They'd lost touch because Grant (or whoever they _really _had in custody) wanted to get as far away from his brother as he could manage.

He claimed Graham had tracked him down somehow and called him, two days before he died. He'd sounded even more dangerously violent than Grant remembered, rambling on about a mini-Armageddon he planned to bring down on the heads of everyone who'd ever wronged him...especially Rudy Wells. Grant really didn't know what to make of that, except maybe his brother had been using his identity for so long that he believed _he_ was Grant...and not Graham. In fact, he claimed, his brother had called _him _Graham during the phone call.

Except...Grant himself didn't feel wronged by Rudy Wells. His twin invited him - several times during the call - to come and witness the mini-Armageddon for himself. Alarmed by his brother's words and the sheer blood lust in his voice, Grant had agreed...and before leaving for California, he'd procured a gun. He didn't intend to allow his brother to hurt anyone else. It was time to end it.

In answer to Oscar's question, Grant said he saw no odd 'devices' but as to whether he could've been 'zapped' without his knowledge...he just didn't know.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Kingsley (whichever Kingsley he was) was placed in a holding cell and Oscar, Russ and Mark headed back to Oscar's office. ''So...what do you think?'' Oscar asked Mark.

''We've got a real problem on our hands,'' Mark began. ''He told a very convincing story, but that _could_ be all it was - a _story_. So let's look at what we _do_ know for certain. The man who tried to kill Jaime on that roller coaster is the same man who tortured both of them - Steve _and_ Jaime - in the kiosk. And he's dead. The man in custody _appears_ to be the one from the attic - Jaime's 'Drill Man'. If they really are, or were, identical twins, one has had extensive plastic surgery. And since the photo we showed Jaime of the Drill Man was taken several years ago, the twin who died is the one whose appearance was altered.''

''That makes him the more likely suspect to be the head of Cobra,'' Russ concluded.

''Or they both could've been working together all along,'' Mark pointed out. ''Psychopathic tendencies are at least somewhat determined by genetics, so if they're truly identical twins, there's a possibility we're looking at a Cobra with _two _heads. OR...one of them may have zapped his brother with the same device that was used on you, Russ - and on Rudy and the others. And the other possibility is that he told us the truth.''

''I'll call the lab and have them dust the devices for prints,'' Russ offered.

Oscar nodded. ''We have a full set of prints from the dead man - and we can get them from the man in custody. Except...with twins, won't the prints be identical too?''

''Similar, but not identical. If you have a _full_ print, rather than just a partial...we might be able to tell whose hands were on that device, and whether it was one - or both - of them.''

* * *

Storm clouds were gathering outside the house and Jaime was thoughtfully eying Steve, wondering if there were storm clouds within him too. The change she'd seen in him from when he'd interrogated Kingsley to when he came out and wrapped his arm around her was dramatic, like the darkest night to the sunniest day within mere moments. As tender and soft as his words and his touch were with her, Jaime could still sense the anger brewing just below the surface. Steve was staring out the window and Jaime wrapped her arms gently around him, kissing the back of his neck. Steve stiffened at her touch...and she backed away.

''Talk to me..?'' she pleaded.

''About...?'' He didn't turn around.

''About whatever's going on in your head right now.''

''Gonna be a helluva storm,'' he said in a dull voice.

''I see that,'' Jaime told him pointedly (_not _talking about the weather). ''I really don't like talking to your back, you know.''

''Sorry. Just watching the clouds.''

''And avoiding the issue! Steve, you've been..._different_...ever since you saw that man's face today. You help me all the time; how about letting _me_ help _you_?''

''I'm fine, Jaime I did my job. That's all.''

''I know I'm not really 'up' on these things, but wasn't your job to question him - and not go all 'Jack Hansen' on him?''

''You're right; you aren't 'up' on these things, as you put it. I've been fully trained and -''

''And what part of your training included _that_? I...I've never seen you like that before...or like _this _either! I'm worried about you...''

''Don't be; I'm fine.''

No, he wasn't. Even though she didn't know Steve quite as well as he knew her, she loved him with her whole heart and she could clearly see he needed _help_. ''Would it be better if I called Mark? I could get lost for awhile and let you two -''

''I don't need Mark - and I _don't_ want to argue with you about this!'' Steve snapped.

Jaime reacted as though he'd slapped her, with a gasp and a flinch that he couldn't see because he still hadn't turned around. Then she grabbed her purse and headed out the door, into the oncoming storm.

Steve remained at the window and watched her go without trying to stop her. Jaime had been so strong today! After one moment of terror and hesitation, she'd tackled her fear and looked squarely at the man's face, identifying him. Not only that, she'd witnessed the entire interrogation and faced it without tears. He, on the other hand, had lost it. He'd manhandled a prisoner who (for all they knew) could possibly be innocent and their best source of information to wrap up the case for good. But one look at his face - the same face that had leered down at both of them in the attic and threatened Jaime with that drill - and Steve had hit his boiling point. He went too far (well beyond his training and into the shady non-ethics of a Jack Hansen penguin) with the suspect...and now he'd gone too far with Jaime too.

Mark Conrad's words echoed in his head. _If you keep going down the road you're on now, I can virtually guarantee it'll tear the two of you apart..._

* * *

''Are you sure, Russ?'' Oscar asked when presented with the fingerprint analysis. ''We can't afford any mistakes with this.''

''Positive match, Oscar. The only prints on that mind control device - and they were all over _both _devices, by the way - belonged to the dead twin.''

''Alright. I guess we'd better put in a call -''

''I've already called Michael; he's on his way, with the compound.''


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Michael would've felt far more comfortable if he'd been administering his 'concussive compound' in a hospital setting, rather than a secure OSI holding cell but Oscar was insistent. There was no way he could (in good conscience) allow whichever Kingsley this was anywhere near National Medical - or any other hospital. He'd remain securely locked in a cell at least until things were sorted out...if not much, much longer. They'd arranged to have extra blankets and pillows brought in, to soften his bed as much as possible while he slept off the compound's effects. Michael would remain with Kingsley (under the guards' watchful eyes) for at least the first hour, then he'd arranged to have medics stay until he returned the next day himself.

Oscar and Mark Conrad had explained to the suspect what the treatment was for and why they wanted him to have it - and Kingsley had agreed without any sort of coercion to give the compound a try. Michael started an IV and once it was flowing smoothly, injected the compound. The effect was immediate: the same arched back and head-clutching that Rudy and the others had exhibited and the same light seizures afterward. It wasn't long (in fact, Oscar was still standing just outside the cell) before Kingsley opened his eyes.

''Can you tell me your name?'' Michael asked.

''Graham Kingsley.''

* * *

Steve couldn't stand at the window and hope there'd be no thunder or lightning before Jaime came back. The storm was coming and it was moving in _fast_. He threw on a jacket (extra protection for his cast) and started running in the direction he'd seen Jaime go, relying once again on his instinct. Water! Water always calmed her - and there was a park with a duck pond just a few blocks away. Running as fast as he dared (and with thunder beginning to sound closer), he found the park...and Jaime.

She looked very small, sitting there with her knees drawn up to her chest as the wind pelted raindrops into her face like tiny pins and needles. Steve eased himself onto the grass next to her. ''Sweetheart...I'm so sorry...I never meant to hurt you.'' She didn't move. ''Jaime, I love you so much. Please...look at me or at least say something...even if it's to tell me to go to hell.''

Jaime's eyes seemed haunted, almost vacant...and Steve thought she was going to jump straight out of her own skin when thunder shook the ground. ''We need to get back,'' he said softly, ''before nature turns us into its own personal set of bionic lightning rods.'' Still Jaime didn't move. Steve saw the flash of light while it was still descending into a bolt of lightning - and he tackled Jaime to the ground and lay on top of her, shielding her with his body. Thunder raged again and then another flash of light - and Jaime shuddered beneath him. If he'd had two good arms, Steve would've scooped her up and carried her to the gardener's shed where they could take cover but he realized the thunder had frozen her with fear, sounding very much like the explosions and squibs that had terrorized her. His own mind was dragging him back to the same battlefield that he knew Jaime was seeing, but Steve's entire focus was on on keeping her safe while the storm raged around them...and _in_ them. He whispered words of love and encouragement in her ear as they rode out the very worst of it. The lightning bolts seemed to change direction in midair (to head straight for them) but somehow just missed while Jaime cringed and Steve waited to be hit. She still hadn't spoken or made any sound except for a small cry of fear. ''You'll be okay,'' he said softly. ''It's almost over.'' (It _had _to be!)

The next thunderclap (and resultant lightning) were a little further apart; the storm was beginning to move on. ''Just a little bit longer, Sweetheart...then I'll take you home.'' Soon, as quickly as it had moved in and as hard as it'd raged, the storm passed. Steve got to his feet and extended his arm to Jaime, to help her up. ''Lean into me,'' he told her. Slowly, they made their way back home - one shaking on the outside where her pain was visible and the other shaking on the inside where it was harder to heal.

When they got to the house, Steve looked back where they'd come from - and the sun was trying to edge its way out from behind the rapidly dissipating clouds. There was a rainbow over the park - and he pointed it out to Jaime, who managed a tiny smile. They changed into dry clothes and Jaime curled up almost in a fetal position in the easy chair. Steve made them both a cup of cocoa, with the little colored marshmallows that she loved. She smiled at him again, just slightly and with the same haunted look in her eyes as she accepted the mug. She still hadn't said a single word.

Now the toughest talk Steve thought he'd ever have was here. He took a deep breath...and dove in. ''I'm really sorry for how I acted today. You were right; when I saw _his_ face something sort of snapped. I never should've gone into that interrogation room...and I should never - _ever_- have spoken to you the way I did. I'll work with Mark - and with you, if you'll still let me - to make sure it doesn't happen again. Or...'' he took another deep breath, ''...I'll leave, if it's what you want.'' There was no answer; she was staring at nothing, with a lone tear on one cheek. ''...Jaime...?''


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Jaime wasn't catatonic (she'd walked home with Steve's help and even managed two very small smiles) but Steve had never seen her this bad. Had his harsh words caused this, or was it seeing Kingsley's face...or the lightning and thunder? Whatever it was, she couldn't (or wouldn't) talk to him. In fact, the only sound she'd made at all since he'd found her by the duck pond was that one tiny cry of fear when the lightning almost hit them.

He tried again to draw her out. ''That thunder was pretty scary, huh? I know it scared me.'' Jaime sipped her cocoa with shaking hands and vacant, haunted eyes but didn't answer. Steve kissed her on the cheek but even that got no reaction. ''I'll be right back,'' he told her, heading into the bedroom and closing the door. He got on the phone and called around until he found Mark Conrad at the OSI building. ''Jaime needs you,'' he said softly. ''I...we both need you.'' He gave Mark a brief (and very quiet) summary of what had happened. ''This might be all my fault,'' Steve concluded. ''Maybe she'll talk to you.''

''I'll be there in ten minutes; stay with her, Steve.'' Privately, Mark had been expecting this since Oscar had told him that Steve _and_ Jaime had ID'ed Kingsley...and about Steve's 'five minutes' in the interrogation room. It sounded now (to Mark) like Steve was directing his feelings outward, toward others, while Jaime was turning hers inward, toward herself. They'd made some terrific progress but a setback was almost inevitable. _Three steps forward, two steps back..._

* * *

Steve was waiting on the front porch when Mark pulled into the driveway. ''I know you said to stay with her, Doc - and I did. I just wanted to ask you something before you go in. Should I..._leave _for awhile, so you can talk to Jaime? Maybe she'll feel more comfortable if I'm not there.''

''No; I want you in there too. And just follow my lead please.'' The two men went into the living room. Jaime hadn't moved, still curled in a near-fetal position in the easy chair. ''Hi, Jaime,'' Mark began gently. ''Steve thought you both could use a visit tonight.'' He pulled an armchair over to the side of the easy chair, so he was in Jaime's line of vision and then motioned for Steve to sit on the sofa, on the end closest to her (where right now her back was turned to him). ''So I understand it's been a very distressing day for _both _of you,'' Mark continued. He was looking directly into Jaime's eyes but getting nothing back - not even acknowledgment. ''Feel like talking about it?'' When Jaime didn't answer, Mark looked over toward the sofa. ''Steve?''

''She was so brave, Doc,'' Steve replied. ''Oscar wanted me to ID the suspect and have Jaime wait in the office...but she insisted on coming along.''

''And you saw his face then, Jaime?'' Mark asked her directly (using her name to try and draw her out). There was no reply. Mark looked over at Steve and nodded.

''It scared her for a minute, Doc,'' Steve went on. ''Hell...scared me too, seeing that face again. But then she turned around, looked straight at him - and ID'ed him for Oscar.''

''I'm proud of you, Jaime,'' the doctor told her. He looked back at Steve to continue. (He had already heard the whole story from Oscar but it would be cathartic for Steve to talk about it - if he was willing to _really_ talk about it - and Jaime needed to hear it. _Do this right, Steve,_ Mark thought to himself. _Do it for both of you!_

''I got Oscar to let me in there with Kingsley for a few minutes, since I'm trained in OSI interrogation methods.''

''And from what I'm told, you're one of the best we have,'' Mark acknowledged.

''Well...not today, I wasn't. I mean, I know how to do it _right_ but one look at that man's face and...I guess I...snapped.''

''Define _snapped_,'' Mark requested.

''I picked him up by his shackles, backed him into a corner and _forced _him to talk. If my other arm wasn't in a cast, Doc...I'd probably have hit him. That...that's the NSB's way of doing things - not ours. And...not mine.''

''And you saw all of this, Jaime?'' Mark asked, still trying to get her to meet his gaze with something other than a blank stare.

''Yeah, she did,'' Steve admitted. ''And I think that was the worst part of what happened down there - Jaime saw a side of me that even I didn't know was there.''

''When you bottle up emotions, especially the intense emotions caused by an experience like the two of you had - they're going to do one of two things. Either they pull you inward until you feel you just can't face the world anymore...or they explode all over everyone around you.''

''They sure did,'' Steve agreed. ''Sweetheart...I'm so sorry you had to see that. And...I'm sorry for the way I talked to you when we got home too. I'm just...so sorry.''

''What happened when you got home, Jaime?'' Mark asked gently, leaning closer and _still _trying to make some sort of contact.

''I...snapped at her. She was trying to help me...and I was awful. So awful that she had to leave...out into that storm, to get away from me.''

Jaime took another sip of the cocoa she'd been clutching in her hands (which reassured Mark that she was actually still _in_ there) and her eyes began to soften...and filled with tears that she immediately forced back, willing herself not to cry. Mark leaned even closer and put his hand on her shoulder. ''I need to ask you something, Jaime,'' he said, choosing his words _very _carefully. ''I know what lightning can do with bionics; you know it too. When you ran out into that storm...were you trying to hurt yourself?'' He watched her closely. Her answer would determine whether she'd be going to the hospital or whether she could still be treated at home.

For a few intensely long moments, there was only silence, then (almost imperceptibly) Jaime shook her head. ''No...'' she said in a near-whisper. ''I...I wasn't thinking. I just...ran. I took my purse...'cause I was gonna find a payphone and call _you_,'' she told Mark. ''But then I...I just ran instead. And...Steve found me.'' Jaime uncurled from her fetal position to sit upright in the chair, with her knees to her chest, just as she'd sat at the pond. ''I...heard the thunder...and it sounded...it sounded like...''

''Like a bomb, Sweetheart?'' Steve offered. Jaime nodded, wide-eyed at the memory. ''It sounded like that to me, too,'' Steve told her. ''Almost made me see that damn park in my head again. You too?''

Jaime nodded once more, letting her tears fall silently (instead of forcing them back). ''And then the lightning...we could've been killed...but Steve...you saved me.''

''You saved me too,'' Steve told her. ''You loved me even when I was so angry that I forgot who I was. You brought 'me' back. Mark said this once,'' he related, winking at the therapist. ''You _soften _me.''

For the first time in that very afternoon, Jaime flashed a genuine smile.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Mark sat back in his chair, watching and listening in quiet support as Steve perched on the arm of the easy chair to wrap his arm around Jaime's shivering shoulders. ''I'm so sorry,'' he whispered again...and in answer, she tilted her head up and kissed him. ''Come over and sit with me?'' he asked. Together, they found a spot on the sofa and seemed to curl into each other for comfort. ''As soon as I felt myself getting...like that, I should've let Oscar do the interrogating and just taken you out of there,'' he told her.

''What happened, Steve?'' Jaime asked. ''I've never seen you like that before. In 'defense' mode, yes...but...''

''As soon as I saw his face, while we were still looking through the glass at him, everything he put us through - and especially what he put you through - just flew in my face like a...a swarm of bats. Like a bulldozer that ran me over...''

''When you asked Oscar to let you go in there,'' Mark wondered, ''did you know what you were going to do?''

''Pretty much. Yeah...I knew. I wanted him to be afraid - and to _hurt_- like we were. Doc, what can I do to shake off that feeling...if it happens again?''

''You can take a couple of deep breaths and then a couple more,'' Mark instructed, ''and _talk_ to someone. To me...or to _Jaime_. Admitting to someone that you feel that way is like a pin prick in a balloon. Slowly but surely the air - or in this case, the anger - comes out. Talking about it is a safety valve; keeps everything from boiling over.''

''We don't even know if he might be a victim too...or if he's the one behind it all...but his _face_. I've never felt anger like that before,'' Steve admitted. ''What was the latest, before you left?'' he asked Mark. ''They gave him Michael's compound, right? Did it work - and do we know who he is?''

''Not yet. Oscar won't be able to question him until his head is completely clear and he's had a chance to sleep off the effects. So tomorrow morning at the earliest.''

''I think I know,'' Jaime offered softly. ''I think...he was telling the truth...that he wanted to see where his brother died.''

''What makes you say that, Sweetheart?'' Steve wondered.

''He had the same face as the man in the attic...but he didn't have the same _eyes_. The 'Drill Man' and the man who...the man on the roller coaster, the one I..._killed_...had the same eyes. _Evil_ eyes. I saw him up close, both times.'' She shivered harder at the memory. ''I'll never forget those eyes...'' Jaime nestled even closer to Steve. ''The Drill Man and the Coaster Man...they were...the same person. And _not_ the person in that room.''

* * *

They might not have planned on questioning him until morning, but the man in the holding cell was awake, alert and talking his head off - to Michael, the medics, the guards and anyone who came near. He didn't know where he was (or why) but he definitely knew _who _he was. Finally, Michael thought it was best to call Oscar back downstairs so what the man was saying could be official. Oscar brought Russ with him to witness and they turned on the tape recorder.

The man told an _interesting_ story. He insisted his name was really Graham Kingsley...Grant's twin brother. He had studied in the States (mostly New York) but he had never been to Austria...or the Soviet Union. ''That would be my brother,'' he told them. ''Our parents sent him overseas - to Austria - to study because they just couldn't deal with him anymore.'' He related the same story about his twin tearing the wings off of a butterfly...and of finding Grant in the basement with a dead girl when they were seniors in high school. ''I never told anyone about that,'' he asserted, ''but my parents knew _something_ was seriously wrong. Therapy back then wasn't what it is now, and Grant was able to charm his way out of hospitalization. So they sent him away. He was a genius, but it was _sick _genius. God, I wish I'd leveled with them - with my parents - and maybe he could've been forcibly put away.''

''Tell me about the mind control device,'' Oscar pressed.

''Mind control...it was something we kicked around in high school, a sort of science fiction _what if_. Nothing concrete or workable like an actual device.''

''Wrong,'' Oscar told him. ''One - or _both_- of you developed a device that does exactly that!''

''That's impossible!''

''What were you doing at the amusement park?''

'Graham' sighed. ''Grant called me after more than a decade. How he found me, I have no idea. But he told me where he was and that he was - and this is how he put it - _going to bring it crashing down on all of their heads, especially Rudy Wells_. He wanted me to _come and watch the fireworks_, he said. So I did; with a gun.''

''The gun was to help him carry out his plans?''

''The gun was to _kill _him! I had to stop him before he killed anyone else! Except I didn't make it.''

''You _did_ make it. You were found in the park,'' Oscar scoffed. ''But you had no gun - so where did you stash it? Or did you give it to your brother?''

''Of course not! I wouldn't -''

One of the guards interrupted them. ''Excuse me, Mr Goldman - there are three people in your office who insist on seeing you immediately.''

''Tell them to come back tomorrow!'' Oscar snapped.

''They have information for you, regarding this case, Sir - and they said it was urgent.''

Oscar groaned inwardly. _Whoever is up there had better have damn good information - a break in the case - or I'll have their heads_! ''Russ, Michael,'' he instructed, ''don't let him say anything else until I get back.''

The three people he found in his office were Mark Conrad, Steve...and Jaime. ''Which one of you do I get to thank for interrupting an interrogation?'' he thundered.

Jaime stepped forward. ''Me,'' she said in a frightened but resolute voice. ''I have something that Mark and Steve feel you should know.''


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Steve helped Jaime to a chair and sat down next to her, holding her hand tightly. Mark stayed on his feet, paced to the window and turned around to face Oscar. ''Jaime has some information that came up while we were all talking - and Steve and I thought it was important that you hear it, and hear it directly from her.''

Jaime shivered but held her head high, looking Oscar squarely in the eyes. ''That man...the one you have in custody...he's not the Drill Man. And -''

''Jaime,'' Oscar interrupted, trying not to let his annoyance (and yes, anger) show. ''_You _were the one who ID'ed him, just this afternoon.''

''Oscar, please let her finish,'' Steve said quietly.

Jaime told Oscar what she'd already told Mark and Steve - that even though the man's face had changed, the Drill Man and the man from the amusement park (both times they were there) were one and the same. She was _sure_ of it. And she was equally sure that the man downstairs was not the man who'd tormented them. ''When Steve and I looked at him through the glass, I saw his face. The _face_ is the same. But when I was down by the duck pond just...thinking...I saw _those eyes_ leering at me...getting so much..._joy_ out of hurting me! And the eyes of the man downstairs...they don't match. There's no evil there. I...I made a mistake...and I want...I _need _to make it right. If you want a new ID to back it up, I'll go down there right now and -''

''Forget it, Sweetheart,'' Steve told her. ''Not gonna happen.''

''Jaime, I know you mean well,'' Oscar replied, ''but you cannot ID someone by seeing whether or not they have 'evil in their eyes'.''

''It's more than you have now, isn't it?'' Steve demanded. He wished he could tell Oscar how long it had taken them to build Jaime up enough that she felt able to come here. He and Mark had re-lit that little spark of courage within her and now Oscar was dismissing what she'd told him as insignificant! ''Oscar, you need any lead you can get at this point - and I trust Jaime's instincts as much as I trust my own! I'm not saying you should let him go, but I think you need to take this into serious consideration.''

Jaime squeezed his hand a little tighter. ''Please let me go down there - and just look through the glass.''

''There's no glass now, Babe. He's in a cell. And we really can't move him around any more tonight, until he's had a chance to rest after getting that compound.''

''Well can he come up to the bars and let me look at him?'' Jaime pleaded.

''I don't really think that's a good idea,'' Steve said gently.

She may have been shivering (and terrified on the inside) but Jaime's jaw was set. ''Mark, tell them!'' she insisted.

Once again, the therapist chose his words _very _carefully. ''I don't think Steve should go down there. Can you handle it without him? Oscar and I could go with you.''

''Okay. Let's do this,'' Jaime said in as brave a voice as she could manage. In the elevator on the way down, Jaime wished she had Steve's arm to hold onto...because she felt like she might pass out. Mark eyed her carefully as she white-knuckled the hand rail, proud of her for the courage it took to come here in the first place - and especially to offer to do _this_...when just a couple of hours earlier she could barely even speak. Maybe it would prove to be cathartic for her, to help her exorcise some of the demons that had been torturing her mind.

Oscar strode ahead of them, reaching the front of the cell first. ''Michael? There's someone here who needs to see your 'patient', if you could bring him up to the bars, please.'' Michael helped Kingsley into a wheelchair (not wanting him on his feet so soon after receiving the compound treatment) and wheeled him up to the front of the cell, then Oscar nodded to Jaime and Mark.

Jaime took a deep, steadying breath and stepped in front of the cell, then crouched down to wheelchair-height to look straight into the prisoner's eyes. She realized there was one more thing she needed...and that was to hear his voice. ''Who _are _you?'' she asked, staring at him intently.

''Graham Kingsley. And who are you?''

''You don't need to know that,'' Oscar told him. He looked at Jaime. ''Enough?'' Jaime nodded and both Oscar and Mark helped her to her feet. She seemed stunned - almost shell-shocked - and remained silent on the elevator ride back upstairs. Once she'd returned to the comfort of Steve's embrace, she found the strength to face Oscar.

''That's...not him. I'm sure of it. His eyes are different. I mean they're the same color but...softer. The man who...did all those awful things to us...he had cold, hard eyes. And there's something else. His voice is different too. The inflection...the accent. Oscar...that's not Grant Kingsley!''

She had been strong when she needed to be. She'd set things right to the best of her ability. Only after they were in the car and on the way home (with Steve cradling her against his chest in the back seat while Mark drove) did she allow herself to cry it out.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Sweetheart, I'm so proud of you," Steve soothed, helping Jaime get comfortable on the sofa.

"It couldn't have been easy," Mark Conrad noted, "seeing that face again."

Jaime shivered at the memory. "It...wasn't the face I was worried about. It was his eyes. _Grant's _eyes. His...EYES!" While Steve and Mark looked on, Jaime ducked to the floor and screamed. "Steve, look out! No!" She covered her eyes and her shivering turned to trembles.

"Jaime, tell me what you're seeing," Mark said calmly.

Her head whirled around, her eyes frantic. "We...we have to get away, Steve!"

Steve wasn't sure if he should touch her (and risk startling her further). This was beyond what he knew how to handle. "Jaime...Sweetheart..." he began gently, "you're safe here."

"Jaime," Mark instructed, "turn around, look behind you and tell me what you see."

"I...can't. He's gonna kill us!Steve.._run_!"

"You _have _to. Turn your head for me, please," Mark repeated.

"It's...my sofa."

"That's right. Can you touch it for me? Just put your hand on it. Do you feel the fabric, the cushions?" Mark asked. He nodded to Steve to go ahead and hold her. Slowly, the panic eased and the wild, frightened look in Jaime's eyes was replaced by tears. Steve helped her back onto the sofa and sat as close as he could, holding her.

"My God...what's happening to me?" Jaime whispered. "Am I..._crazy_?"

"You're _not _crazy," Mark assured her. "I believe you may have just had your first true flashback. Can you tell me what you saw?"

"_His_ eyes...then his smile...the kind that _isn't _happy...you know?"

"What else?" Mark probed.

"There he was...coming through the smoke...I could _smell_ the smoke! He was heading right for Steve...was gonna _kill_ him...and then...he was coming..for _me_!" Jaime shivered in Steve's embrace. "It was...so _real_! The bombs were going off...he was..._shooting_ at us...and we...we couldn't even see him. But then...I saw him! His eyes...like something out of a monster movie! It was awful. I couldn't look...couldn't watch him kill Steve! Then I heard your voice...and when I _did_look, he was gone."

A light bulb seemed to go on in Mark's head. "Do you remember when we talked about flashbacks - and how certain things will trigger them?"

"Yes."

"You saw Graham sitting in the interrogation room this morning and you ID'ed him. Then you started thinking about..." (Mark waited for Jaime to fill in the blank.)

"About Kingsley's eyes...the one who _hurt _us."

Mark nodded. "You were still comparing their eyes in your mind on the way home, weren't you?" he asked gently.

"Yeah. But that...just now...it wasn't the first one. The first flashback, I mean.''

This was news to Steve and Mark! "Can you tell me about the others?" Mark asked.

"There was just one. Today...at the duck pond. When I first compared Graham's eyes to...the other man's...in my head. His..._Kingsley's_ eyes...they sort of _jumped_ out at me...and he was there! He was _right there_! Telling me...what he was gonna do...to me and to Steve...and I could smell smoke...and heard the bombs...and he grabbed me. It was just as real as this one. I wasn't remembering it...I was _there_! And his...his _eyes_...he looked like a snarling, drooling _animal_...moving in for the kill! Then...Steve found me...and he grabbed me to keep me safe from the storm. And Kingsley was gone."

"Jaime, I think we've found your trigger. Or one of them, anyhow. When you picture his eyes in your mind - or when you see something or someone who reminds you of those eyes - this happens to you."

"How do I stop it?" she pleaded. "I want him _out of my head_!"

"I can give you some steps to take to try and prevent this in the future, when you feel it might be happening again," Mark promised. "But first - if you're up to it, I'd like to work a bit on finding exactly what it was that triggered you - and _why_."

"I think maybe she's had enough for one day, Doc," Steve said quietly.

"No...I want to do this. I..._need _to do it! Please?" Jaime told them.

"Alright," Mark began. "This may be very, very difficult for you to talk about, but I believe there's a memory there, still locked in your head...something so awful that your mind is protecting you from dealing with it. And it has something to do with Kingsley's eyes..."

"I'm not sure," Jaime said in a shaking voice. She _did _know which section of her memories she hadn't spoken of, but she wasn't sure she could voice them without dissolving completely.

Mark read her correctly. "We'll both be here to support you - and you can take all the time you need - but there _is_ something there...isn't there?"

Jaime nodded through silent tears. "I...we...were up on the coaster platform. I had just...been shot. And he...took my power pack. I thought he...was gonna just leave me there...to die...but he didn't. He...he picked me up and...and he started up the lift hill." Jaime had to pause to catch her breath, choke back the sobs and find her courage. "He kept on..._talking_ to me, the whole way to the top...saying _awful_ things! He said he...he wished there was more time so he could..._really_ have _fun_ with me...and he described the _fun_. Vividly." Jaime's body shivered again, violently, at the memory. "But the worst part...right at the top, while he was...he was putting those chains on me...he told me I'd fall...right onto Steve...that I'd know the whole way down...that _I_ had killed him. Then...just before he left me there...he leaned down and grinned at me...that _evil, leering_ grin, right in my face...and his _eyes_! It was like there wasn't even a person there! He...made me look at him...said he wanted me to see the eyes...of my killer!"

Jaime looked over at Mark, and then at Steve. This was the last of it - what she'd been holding back. Steve smoothed the hair from her face and brushed away Jaime's tears. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that," he said softly. "Mark, what can I do to help her?"

"You may have more than one 'trigger' - _both_ of you may have them. We'll find them as time goes on. But often right before a flashback episode, you may feel 'foggy' or 'fuzzy' - like the world is a little further away from you. If that happens, let each other know. Or if you find yourself already in a flashback, the method for stopping it is the same. Appeal to as many of the five senses as you can, to 'ground' yourself - or each other - back into reality. Hold an ice cube in your hand. Turn on some loud music. Smell something strong - like peppermint oil or smelling salts. Bite into a lime or a lemon. And try to connect with your surroundings - like we did with the sofa. Touch, hearing, smell, taste and sight. And most important of all, since you're lucky enough to have each other for support, keep doing what you've been doing. Talk to each other - and to me - be patient with each other...and _love_ each other. Slowly but surely, you _will_get through this."

Jaime and Steve looked at each other and _smiled_. They had the identical thought: _Things just might be okay, after all._


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The next morning, after a visit with Jaime and Steve over coffee, Mark Conrad headed over to OSI-Los Angeles to check on the rest of his current case list. Oscar was just pouring a cup of coffee from a fresh pot, and poured one for Mark as well.

''I'll hazard a guess that this is at least your second pot of coffee,'' Mark told him, ''and that you've already been here for hours.''

''Third,'' Oscar chuckled. ''But not all for me; I've been sharing.''

''Busy morning? And did you ever actually go _home_...and _sleep_?''

''Sleep's not in my contract,'' Oscar said lightly. ''But yes, I had a few hours.''

''Any trouble with nightmares, bad dreams...?'' Mark asked.

''My nightmares lately are here at the the office. What to do with this Kingsley fellow, for example. I really don't have anything to hold him on – except maybe trespassing - but I'm not sure I feel comfortable letting him go.''

''Does it make you feel personally unsafe, like he might come after you?''

''No. I believe now that the man in that cell is innocent. Russ and I spoke at length with him this morning – and Jaime is our best source for an ID, so there we have it. Something keeps nagging at me though - and I just can't put my finger on it,'' Oscar explained.

''Oscar, when you come back here after talking with Graham, do you ever feel dizzy, foggy or like the world is...well...fading away from you?''

''You're talking about flashbacks, right?'' Oscar guessed. He hadn't experienced them yet and told the PTSD doctor that he didn't expect that he would, since his experience wasn't as intense or protracted as Jaime and Steve's...but Mark explained to him that _any _especially traumatic incident could potentially produce the same symptoms and results. And Oscar had been tied up and held captive in that tiny storage cell. Mark would be watching him closely for as long as necessary, but in the meantime he instructed Oscar (much as he had Steve and Jaime) about the warning signs and how to pull himself out of an episode if one should occur. He worried that Oscar would try to be stoic and pass any problems off as 'nothing' - and he told him so. After reminding him that he could call anytime he felt the need for a session (or just to talk things over on the phone), Mark headed down the hall to find Russ.

He found Oscar's right-hand man juggling two separate files, three phone lines and instructions to his secretary, all at once - business as usual - so he sat down to wait for his turn. ''Awful lot on your plate so soon after coming back,'' he noted, when Russ was finally free.

''Comes with the territory; I'm either 'back'...or I'm not. And by handling all of these things, I can be at my desk and stay off of this foot.''

''How _is_your foot?''

Russ shrugged. ''It hurts...but it's healing.''

''And the rest of you? Are you sleeping okay? Feeding your body...and your soul?''

Russ laughed. ''Pretty deep stuff for 10 in the morning, but yes - I'm doing alright. And I'm really happy to be back, so I don't think it was too soon at all. Losing myself in all of _this_...'' (Russ motioned to a desk covered with files and papers) ''...is the best possible medicine for me - 'soul' included. I was sure they'd put me out to pasture after...what happened.''

''You remember most of it now, don't you?'' Mark queried.

''I think so. It's more as if I'm seeing it through a fog, watching someone else who looks exactly like me...taking Oscar away at gunpoint. And...almost shooting you and Steve.''

Mark frowned. _Through a fog _was not a good sign. ''Russ, when you see these things 'through a fog', are you watching like it was a movie, or -''

''No. It's more like I'm actually there,'' Russ admitted.. ''But then the phone rings or my secretary comes in - and the images go away. So you see, work is _good _for me.''

Mark knew it was time to have the same talk with Russ that he'd had with the others - and so he did.

* * *

Rudy had never seen anything quite like Grant Kingsley's two devices, but now that they'd been logged into evidence, photographed from every angle and dusted for prints, they were his to examine and analyze. He still shivered at the thought that these two devices had been used on _him_, almost forcing him to _kill_ both of 'his kids'! Out of all of Kingsley's victims, Rudy was doing the best in his therapy with Mark. He showed clear understanding that just as the equipment in his hands when he performed surgery or one of his experiments was a tool or implement under his control, his hands had been an instrument controlled by Kingsley. The deeds he'd nearly been forced to carry out were _not_ of his mind or his psyche. Several times during his hospitalization, things had come up that he felt the need to sort through - and he'd been diligent about calling Mark, requesting time and working through his issues.

The fact that he was in street clothes (and a lab coat) in _his _lab told Mark that Rudy had finally been released from the hospital. ''How are you doing, my friend?'' Mark greeted him, offering the older doctor a mug of coffee.

''These devices - they're _amazing_!'' Rudy exulted. ''I've barely scratched the surface and have no idea how they work, but I can see now why he wanted a power pack.''

Mark smiled at Rudy's exuberance. ''Once again...how are _you _doing?''

''I'm feeling alright; more like my old self every day,'' Rudy told him. ''How are Jaime and Steve?''

''They hit a rough patch yesterday, but they're fine this morning, with each other to lean on. They were both able to get a good night's sleep and that always works wonders too.''

''They tell me Graham Kingsley has expressed an interest in working with me, to examine his brother's workmanship here,'' Rudy said slowly.

''How do you feel about that?''

''It might not be a bad idea. Maybe he could shed some light on what all of the circuits, dials and numbers mean,'' Rudy replied. ''When do they expect him to be released?''

''Well, he has no family that could be brought in to confirm his identity,'' Mark explained, ''but Oscar tells me that Russ was able to track down several friends from the neighborhood who knew both twins for more than a decade and are certain they can tell them apart - and tell us which one is in custody. They should be here by tonight - and by this time tomorrow, we'll have a lot more answers.''


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The three friends had been flown in from Ohio, Florida and Texas - and housed in separate hotels, unaware of each other's presence so their testimonies couldn't be considered tainted by having conferred with each other. They were given the night to settle in before being questioned in the morning. None of them were told _why _they were there, other than it was a National Security matter and involved the Kingsley twins.

Strangely, the next morning each one (separately) walked in with the same question on their lips: ''_What has Grant done_?'' Of course, they weren't told who had done what – if anything – once again to keep their stories 'clean' and their testimonies 'pure' and 'untainted'. Their sworn testimonies, taken before they were sent to view the man in custody, were virtually as identical as the Kingsley twins.

Both had been smart beyond their years - brilliant, really - from a very young age. If forced to make a distinction, Graham was the more 'book smart' and fact-based of the two, while Grant was more focused on his latest 'project' and what it could do or mean for _him_, personally. As they all grew a little older, it became more obvious that something was 'off' about Grant. When he knocked a little girl down on the playground he never apologized (unless forced to, and then it was never sincere) but would step right over her as though she was a pebble in his path. Once they all reached high school together, Graham retreated into his books and studies with an eye toward the future while Grant was still focused on whatever was directly in front of him. As one friend put it, ''His wants and needs were the only ones that mattered. It was like he thought the rest of us had no feelings - or that we didn't exist in his world until he needed something from us.''

When the twins were sent to college, Graham chose to study in New York and the twins' parents chose Austria for Grant because they simply couldn't deal with him anymore. Graham had told their friends that his parents had tried every avenue available to get their son some help...and failed. The family was afraid that Grant might do something drastic to any or all of them, so the only choice left was to send him away.

Jaime's instincts, it seemed, were right on target. Two of the three friends said they could tell the difference between the twins by their _eyes_ and the third said he could tell simply by looking. So one by one they were taken down to the holding cell to be 'reunited' with their old friend. They were instructed to take as much time as needed to tell who the man was – but _not _to call him by name. When they were ready, they could nod to Russ, be taken back upstairs - and then they would give their conclusions.

One by one, with each friend removed before the next one was sent in, they entered a small conference room where Oscar and Jack Hansen waited. All three gave the same conclusion: that was _Graham _Kingsley they were holding in that cell. Two of the three went so far as to speculate that if Graham had done anything wrong, he had probably killed his twin - either to stop him from harming himself...or those around him.

So the results were clear now, from Jaime's ID of the Drill Man in the attic and the man who'd tortured them in the park as being the same man, to the fingerprints on the devices and the fact that Michael's compound had made the story clearer - a story confirmed by three childhood friends who were all positive which twin was in that cell. Arrangements were made for Graham Kingsley to be released.

* * *

It was a clear, sunny afternoon, so Jaime and Steve decided to take a loaf of bread down to the pond and feed the ducks. ''I think I may have had a flashback yesterday too,'' Steve admitted as he watched Jaime tossing bread cubes to the bird.

''Oh? Are you okay?''

''Yeah. I heard the thunder and lightning and for just a few minutes it was like I was _right there_, with the bombs and gunshots going off all around us...''

Jaime wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed the back of his neck ''That must've been awful.''

''Yeah...but it didn't last long. I saw you there but instead of standing next to me, you were on the ground, huddled over and trying to avoid the bullets - so I dove on top of you. When I heard you cry out, it brought me right back to Planet Earth. I'd do anything to keep you safe – anything within my power. You...know that, right?''

Keeping her arms around his neck. Jaime moved from in back to in front of him and gave Steve her most radiant smile. ''There's no one in the world that I'd feel safer with,'' she told him, kissing him for emphasis. ''You know, we still have a wedding to plan! A date to set...who to invite...''

''I think I'll leave that sort of preparing to you, Sweetheart,'' Steve answered. ''All that matters to me is becoming Man and Wife. Everything else is icing on the cake - and this cake is pretty damn fine, all by itself!''

''You're thinking what I'm thinking...aren't you, Colonel?'' Jaime said with a mischievous grin.

Steve winked at her. ''We wouldn't dare...would we..?''


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Jaime and Steve raced back to the house (at as fast a 'normal' pace as they dared) and began packing and planing, talking excitedly often at the very same moment. They didn't hear the knock on the door - but they heard the persistent doorbell and groaned. (They'd almost made it!) Michael and Rudy stood smiling at them from the front porch (each doctor thinking privately that the bionic duo looked like they'd just been caught with a hand in the cookie jar). They were both fully dressed and not breathing heavily; _what _had they been up to?

''Been working with those bars?'' Michael asked as they were invited into the living room.

''You bet!'' Jaime told him. ''Wanna see?'' She walked over to the little table and bent the first and second bars easily. The third one (where she'd struggled and given up before) bent for her now, too. She straightened them all back up then moved on to the fourth and was even able to bend that one, although not as far. ''Been practicing,'' she bragged.

''Very nice,'' Rudy affirmed. ''Steve?''

Steve moved each of the first four bars down to the table and back up again. He strained a bit with the last one, but managed to bend it all the way too, without the use of his other arm to brace himself for leverage.

''Very impressive,'' Michael noted. ''Got your track suits handy?''

''Track...suits?'' Jaime groaned. (Not exactly what she'd planned to spend the afternoon on!)

''Especially you, Honey,'' Rudy told her. ''We'll probably just have Steve walk the track - or maybe jog - but it's time for you to open up and _run_.''

''Yay,'' she responded in a most unexcited voice.

Twenty minutes later, they headed onto the track at National, where Rudy and Michael were waiting. Jaime had - as usual - managed to find an 'up' side. ''Hey, maybe Oscar asked them to do this - and it's the first step toward his reinstating me!'' she said with a little more bounce in her step.

Steve smiled. ''Easy there, Tiger; one step at a time...''

''One step for mankind...one giant leap for Jaime!'' she declared, bouncing to a stop in front of the two doctors. It might not have been the way she and Steve had planned to spend the afternoon, but she was going to make the most of it. (Besides, there was always the evening...or tomorrow morning!) ''Lead on, Coach! Or...Coaches!''

''Since you're so eager to get started,'' Michael told her, ''I want you to take the first lap by yourself. Run it, but at a 'normal' pace - a pace that feels comfortable to you. Don't try and break any speed records. Just consider it a warm-up.''

''You're gonna talk about me...aren't you?'' Jaime said with a fake pout. Michael grinned and waved her off onto the track. She threw one more jokingly soulful look over her shoulder and took off.

They waited until Jaime reached the first far turn. ''How's she doing Steve..._really_?'' Michael asked. ''Mark said there was a problem yesterday.''

''There was...for both of us. But we're working out strategies for if...well, _when_...it happens again. She did a damn courageous thing, ID'ing Kingsley up close like that.''

''Yes, I heard,'' Rudy agreed. ''We'd planned to bring you down here today anyhow, but now we have something to talk to you about. Oscar came to us this afternoon and asked our feelings about placing Jaime on permanent retirement. Considering all the problems she's had and everything she's been through, it might be something to consider. No strings attached, he said. No 'Retirement Community'. What do _you _think?''

''I think I'd like nothing better than to see her retired from service. Jaime, on the other hand, isn't about to go quietly. I virtually guarantee it. She'd _have _to accept whatever Oscar decided, but it gives her a goal - something to work toward and focus on.'' Steve looked from Rudy to Michael and back again. ''What did you tell him?''

''That she's getting stronger every day,'' Michael answered. ''And that the person he should be talking to about potentially retiring Jaime is..._Jaime_.''

''Thank you,'' Steve sighed. (Privately, he chuckled to himself that Oscar had no idea what he was in for!)

* * *

An hour and a half (and an exhausting work-out) later, Jaime and Steve went home, showered (together, of course) and then resumed their earlier planning and packing. Then Jaime scowled. ''Someone's here. Again,'' she sighed. They headed out to the living room to greet whoever their latest visitor might be - wishing they weren't suddenly so 'popular'. ''Black government car,'' Jaime noted.

''Oscar,'' Steve affirmed, opening the door to let him inside. He shook hands with his boss and prepared to make a hasty retreat. ''I think I'll make myself scarce for awhile, maybe go for a jog.''

''Why don't you wait, Pal?'' Oscar requested. ''The first part of this visit concerns _both _of you.'' He waited until they both sat down together, then told Steve and Jaime about the testimonies of the friends of the Kingsleys, how everything coincided with what Jaime had said - with Graham's own story and the fingerprint analysis to back it up. ''So it looks like Kingsley will be a free man by tomorrow morning,'' he concluded, eying them both carefully. ''How do you feel about that?''

''I think it's great!'' Jaime answered first. ''Since he didn't do anything wrong, there's no need to keep him locked up just to poke and prod at him.''

''And if you happen to run into him at Rudy's lab - if he's assisting on a project - will that cause _problems _for you?'' Oscar wondered.

''I don't know,'' she answered honestly. ''It might. At least at first. But I have plans on how to cope and pull right out of it if something does happen. I'll be okay.''

''Steve?'' Oscar asked.

''Can I register my vote as neutral?'' Upon seeing Oscar's raised eyebrow, Steve elaborated. ''If he's truly innocent, great - let him go. But giving him access to Rudy's lab? I'm not so sure...''

''Not the full lab; just the section his brother's devices are being examined in. He could potentially shed a lot of light on a great many things for us. And everything else will be safely locked away. Like I said, just one section of the lab.''

''It might work; he could be helpful,'' Steve acknowledged.

''Good. I thought you both deserved a personal heads-up on this one,'' Oscar told them. He looked at Steve. ''Ready for that jog, Pal?'' he chuckled.

Steve kissed Jaime on the cheek and headed for the door before she could ask him why he was going jogging when they'd just been put through every one of their paces. She look curiously at Oscar and he shot her a smile.

''Babe, I'd like to thank you for the courage it took to come back to my office yesterday to ID Kingsley. You helped get the ball rolling in the right direction, before someone got steamrolled for something he had no part in.''

''All in a day's work,'' Jaime said, smiling back.

''That's what I'd like to talk to you about.''

''Work? You're ready for me to come back? Because I've been working hard to get stronger and be ready and -''

''Jaime, I think you should be retired. Permanently,'' Oscar replied.

''What?! Oscar...you're aren't serious! Are you...?''

''I would say you've more than earned it. Some of my operatives would probably jump through hoops for this chance.''

Jaime scowled...then caught herself pouting and quickly pulled it back. ''Then retire one of them - and put me in their place!''

''Jaime -''

''Oscar, it was my _instinct_ that told me you were holding the wrong Kingsley! My gut...my instinct...that 'little voice inside that every operative needs to listen to'...that's still there for me! And it's _strong_! **I'm** strong! I'm not saying _here I am, send me on a mission __**now**_, but please don't retire me! I...used to be good at this, right?''

''One of my best,'' Oscar admitted. ''But after everything you've been through -''

''Steve's been through pretty much the same; are you retiring him, too? No, I didn't think so! If I was 'one of your best' before, I can be that again! I know I don't remember most of what I did for you, but I can re-learn it – and I'm still the same person!''

''Jaime -''

''Whatever it is I need to do to prove it to you, _tell me_- and I'll do it! I just want a chance!''

Oscar smiled. ''You've got the same spirit - and _fire_- that you always had. Let's give this a little more time so you can get your bearings and then we'll talk again.''


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Jaime and Steve had to joke about it all, as they put their still partially-packed suitcases into the closet. The fates (or more precisely, the fates' unknowing accomplices at the OSI) had seen to it that this was _not _to be their wedding day after all. They started getting giddy and silly, taking turns imitating Oscar and Rudy (with Jaime doing an especially apt imitation of Oscar trying to get a word in edgewise when he'd met with her) and she and Steve ended up falling onto the bed together in peals of helpless laughter. Their eyes met...and the intake of breath (on each side) was sharp and audible. The intensity of emotion their gazes reflected nearly caused them both to melt...and they gasped without realizing it, as their eyes locked and they held each other.

''Your eyes...'' Jaime whispered. Steve froze for just a split second. Was her trigger _eyes_...or just certain eyes? ''The most handsome eyes I've ever known,'' she went on. ''And I still want to look into them...forever.''

''That's a promise. And you know,'' he told her, still locked to her gaze, ''even though we didn't get married today after all...we can still practice for the honeymoon.''

''I don't think we need 'practice'...but I definitely need _you_.'' Their clothes somehow hit the floor with either of them breaking the gaze - and even though there was the slightest chill in the air...they didn't need a blanket. Their eyes remained locked together, gazing straight into each other's souls through the entire act.

* * *

With all of the energy they'd expended the day before (between their work-out at the track and...afterward), Steve and Jaime might have been justified in sleeping in. But they were at National Medical bright and early (with a big thermos of coffee) and already out on the track when Rudy looked out his office window and spotted them there. ''Well, I'll be damned,'' he told Michael. ''Looks like we're heading outside this morning.''

''Or we could have a little fun,'' Michael suggested. ''Pretend to know nothing about this and call them back here later for a work-out!''

''_Doctor Marchetti!_'' Rudy said (feigning indignation). Then he laughed. ''We can do better! And here's how...''

* * *

Jaime took a 'normal' run around the track to warm up, while Steve warmed up on the bench, drinking coffee and smiling as he watched her. She was so beautiful...and so determined to finally _heal_. The bullet wound in her side had nearly faded to a scar with no lasting effects. Yesterday, she had hit a top speed of just over 30 miles per hour when Michael clocked her. They had a lot more work to do, but they were finally on their way. When Jaime came back around, Steve joined her for a 'cool down' round, jogging the track at a pace that was comfortable for both of them. Peering out from either side of a closed curtain, their doctors were watching - and they smiled.

It felt so good to be going around the track side-by-side that they took another round. Then Steve sat down and Jaime took off at her top speed. She seemed even faster than the day before but Steve had no stopwatch. ''Thirty nine miles an hour!'' Michael told Rudy...because he _did _have a stopwatch.

Jaime did three laps at that speed before beginning to slow at the final turn. Once again, Steve joined her, this time walking the track to end the workout. They shared the rest of the coffee and then headed back to the car – and their doctors headed for the front entrance and the parking lot. They waited until Steve and Jaime had the car doors open and then greeted then cheerily. ''Wonderful to see you here so bright and early!'' Rudy praised. ''Let's get you out to the track for a few laps''

The two doctors looked at their patients' faces...and _laughed_. After the joke was reveled, Michael told Jaime she'd nearly hit 40 miles per hour. ''And we'd really like it if you two could go back onto the track just for one lap - first half jogged and then walk the second half. We'll check you both out after that...and you'll be free from further interference from your doctors for the rest of the day. Unless you need something, of course.''

''Can I run full-out one more time first?'' Jaime asked.

''Do you feel up to it, Honey?'' Rudy asked.

''Watch me!' She hit 42 miles per hour this time, then took the requested cool-down lap with Steve.

You're in excellent health - both of you,'' Rudy proclaimed once they'd both been checked over. ''Steve, we'll get a new x-ray of your arm tomorrow and we'll possibly be able to give you a lighter cast. Stay on your antibiotic - and the pain meds when needed. Plenty of rest. Jaime - just keep doing what you're doing, because it's working.''

On the way home, Jaime suggested they call Mark Conrad to check in, requesting an evening visit instead of a morning one...and then the rest of their daylight hours would be freed up. They exchanged a conspiratorial glance and grinned; it was _time_!

* * *

When Mark visited that night after supper (as requested), something was _different _but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Jaime was radiant and Steve looked like a contented canary-fed cat. Since his specialty involved watching faces and reactions, he never glanced down enough to spot the rings. For Jaime and Steve, it was a deliciously joy-filled secret that they'd share a little at a time when the time was right. Now their souls could heal, as well as their bodies.


	17. Epilogue

Epilogue

''Here you go, Oscar,'' Russ said, handing Oscar his Daily Summary at the end of the day. Everything the OSI was working on or involved in was listed and then detailed and Oscar's experienced eyes scanned the report quickly but thoroughly. Rudy had begun working with Graham Kingsley to analyze Grant's devices. They had barely scratched the surface but things were looking hopeful. Once notes had been made on all of their findings (some time in the future), the devices themselves would be powered down, the bionic power pack removed from the smaller device, and they would be filed away in a locked vault as technology that _no one _needed to get their hands on.

His eyes came to rest on the paragraph at that bottom. ''So they finally did it - went ahead and tied the knot!'' Oscar mused. He didn't know whether to be happy for them or to drive over to the house and give them 101 kinds of grief. ''And they didn't think we'd find out?''

Russ grinned. ''Do we play along - or let them know that we know?''

''Let's play along...and see where they take this.''

* * *

''From the smiles on your faces, I'll hazard a guess that you both had a good day,'' Mark began.

''An _excellent _day,'' Steve told him.

''One of the best ever,'' Jaime chimed in. (The pair shared yet another conspiratorial grin.)

''No nightmares last night - and no flashbacks today?'' Mark probed.

''Everything's great doc,'' Steve answered. ''For _both _of us.''

Mark could read them well enough to know something was definitely up. Would they tell him...or would he pry it out of them? Either way, he was determined to know!

''This morning on the track,'' Steve went on, ''Jaime ran her best time yet, since her injuries. I did a couple of slower laps myself. And it looks like I'll be trading this clunker of a cast in tomorrow for a lighter one.''

Steve shifted his weight to curl closer to Jaime, bringing his cast (and inadvertently his left hand too) toward the front...and Mark spotted it. There was no mistaking what it was...or what it meant. He forced himself to keep his 'neutral therapist face' while he figured out whether to congratulate them or have them both committed. All he knew at the moment was that he'd never seen either of his patients look happier...and that was what true _healing _was all about!

**END**


End file.
